Dear Readers, this is the story of the most unlikely couple in Greek/Roman mythology: Hades and Persephone, opposites in every way imaginable. However, they were very faithful to each other. Although this short story stands well on its own, there is a second part soon to come. I owe my thanks to Edith Hamilton, author of Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes. She had enlightened me on the many tales of Greek and Roman mythology. The characters and their stories belong to mythology. I own only bits and pieces. I hope, dear readers, that you enjoy and review.

The Goddess Who Died

Persephone descended like a falling petal into the Underworld. In the world above, winter was coming. The leaves on the trees had turned their autumn colors and the harvest was brought in. Persephone spent two thirds of the year with her mother Demeter, who was the Goddess of the Harvest. When the harvest was done, Persephone would return to the Underworld to be with her husband, Hades. The God of the Dead spent two thirds of the year alone and Persephone knew what it did to him. He wanly wandered through the Underworld, waiting for his bride to finally return to him.

The Underworld was a dark and dismal place. The ground was solid grey stone with a thin layer of fog on it that swirled around Persephone's bare feet as she walked. She had returned to Hades' domain, his citadel, his home. There were no walls, no ceiling, just blackness. There was no light, but Persephone seemed to shine brightly all on her own. She was the solitary flame in the near-impenetrable darkness. The rivers Styx, Lethe, Acheron, Phlegethon, and Cocytus were what separated this damned place from the living. The dead were always being ferried across the Styx to the awaiting judges of the dead, Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthus, who assigned each soul to its appropriate abode. The virtuous and the heroic were rewarded in the Elysian Fields; wrongdoers were sent to Tartarus; and most wandered as dreary shadows among fields of asphodel. At times Persephone could hear the low growls of Cerberus, Hades' loyal dog who guarded the gates of the Underworld.

She felt so out of place in this damned hell. She was a living, breathing goddess; daughter of Demeter and Zeus. She was the Princess of Spring, who had once been an innocent virgin. Hades, who had been so enraptured by her beauty, rose out of the ground one day riding his chariot, which was as black as night and drawn by four coal-black stallions. Persephone remembered that day vividly in her mind. She had strayed too far from her company, attracted by the exotic flowers along the edge of a field. While she was delicately cupping one blood-red bloom in her small hand, the ground opened with a low rumble of falling and splitting rocks.

Persephone had never remembered a time in her immortal life when she had been so frightened. Hades appeared then, dark and dangerous, dressed in his black armor and cloak trimmed with the thick fur of a black wolf. A dark metallic crown rested upon his head of long, almost white hair. His eyes were a piercing ice-blue as they immediately fixed themselves upon her. Hades was not quite as handsome as his brothers, Zeus and Poseidon, but his power could not be denied.

Hades had drawn his chariot up beside Persephone, her green eyes filled with terror. He had looked upon her beautiful, yet terrified, face and she thought she saw a moment's hesitance. However, Hades reached out a hand donned in black leather and grabbed her wrist. Persephone was pulled into the chariot and instantly smothered in blackness as Hades raped her, leaving behind a trail of white petals: her innocence.

Persephone remembered screaming as Hades drove his chariot back down into the Underworld, keeping her in a vice-like grip. Her mother Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest, had heard and she had immediately begun searching for her daughter. For an entire year Persephone remained hidden in the Underworld at Hades' side. In her sorrow she had grown numb; she stared without seeing and heard without listening. She remembered Hades caressing her face tenderly, pressing his cold lips against hers. She remembered him speaking to her, but she did not comprehend a word. Persephone was a single golden flower surrounded by death and she had felt herself begun to wilt.

It wasn't until Hermes the messenger came down into the Underworld, that Persephone awakened from her state. Hermes had come to take her back to the green earth above. Persephone had risen quickly and hurried to the messenger's side, but for some unknown reason, she had turned to look back at Hades, her captor. Persephone remembered vividly how distressed he had seemed. His blue eyes looked at her and Persephone found that she was slightly hesitant. Hades extended a hand sheathed in a black gauntlet. In his palm appeared a ripe pomegranate which split instantly in two halves.

"Leave if you must, my dear Persephone," Hades had said with his voice full of melancholy. "But before you depart from this place, please, take a single seed, and pray, do not think ill of me. I love you, beautiful Persephone."

Persephone approached the God of the Underworld with slow steps; her feet were cold against the icy floor. She never removed her green eyes away from his blue ones as she plucked a seed from the flesh of the fruit and placed it upon her pink tongue. Hades did not touch her as he had before. Instead he bowed his head in a solemn farewell. Persephone left him then.

It was not until later when Persephone discovered that Hades had deceived her. The seed had been a trick. If one eats or drinks in the Underworld, they would never truly be free of the World of the Dead. Persephone would have to return to the Underworld as queen and wife of Hades. However, Zeus had proclaimed that she would only spend four months of the year with Hades; the other eight Persephone would spend with her mother above ground. Hades was complacent as he could never go against his brother's commands, and Persephone was still, and would forever be, his wife.

While Persephone was away with her mother, she could not help but feel different than she was before. It was as though parts of her were missing. Persephone was no longer just the radiant maiden of the spring and summertime, whose light step of bare feet upon the dry, brown earth was enough to make it fresh and blooming. She was now aware of how brief such beauty was; all that was green and lush must end with the coming of the cold and pass like herself into the power of death. After the lord of the dark, Hades, had carried her away, she was never again the innocent creature she had once been who frolicked in the grassy, flowery meadow. Although she did rise every spring from the dead, she could not help but bring with her the memory of where she had come from. With all Persephone's bright beauty there was something strange and overwhelming about her. The mortals often referred to her as "the maiden whose name may not be spoken". All other gods, those who lived happily on Mount Olympus, would never know what it is to die. Persephone did; she was the goddess who died.

Autumn was drawing to a close. The world above grew colder each day whilst the Underworld stayed the same as it had always been: dark. Persephone had only just returned from the earth above and was wandering the realm which she was queen of. But she wasn't truly lost; she was looking for her husband, her Prince of Darkness, her King of the Dead. She was his and he was hers; neither of them would deny that. Hades would no doubt feel her presence soon. She was like a touch of warm spring within an icy winter landscape.

Persephone felt him before she heard and saw him. Hades was like a cold breath of wind against her olive skin. She closed her green eyes and said aloud, "I am here, my husband."

When she opened them again Hades was standing before her, tall and powerful. His icy blue eyes, a good foot above her, were staring down at her. Persephone had learned to read the emotion in them over the years and knew that he was relieved to see her home at last. The fog, which was a constant element of their realm, swirled around them and rose up just as Hades raised his covered hands to cup her delicate face. She closed her eyes again at the familiar feeling of cold armor against her skin. She ran her hands down his black breast plate. The fog swallowed them as Hades pressed his cold lips to hers.

"Persephone," he murmured low and deep against her soft pink lips.

Persephone had missed her husband. Each year when she rose from the Underworld and spent her time with the living, she had ached for his presence. Long ago she would have shuddered to think of it, but Persephone had fallen in love with Hades. She had long ago forgiven him for taking her, for raping her. Even after so many years later, Hades still begged for her forgiveness. She would smile softly, a trace of her old self shining through, and she would say that it was already given to him.

Now that she had returned to him, Hades would want to welcome her home as he always did. Persephone still trembled with excitement even when she knew what was coming. The large bed appeared as though Hades had silently bid it to. It was made of black iron with feathered pillows and a mattress like a cloud. Sheer black curtains billowed in the non-existent breeze. Hades tenderly gathered her in his arms and placed her on the black silk sheets. Persephone sought his lips again and it was like fire meeting ice.

Persephone proceeded to help Hades with his armor as she had always done before. First she unclasped his heavy cloak made of black wolf fur. It fell in a heap, dispersing the fog around it. Persephone remembered the first time they had made love she had fumbled with undressing him. Now Persephone easily undid the leather belt which held a sheath for his sword. The gilded handle was embedded with sapphires that matched his eyes. Persephone loosened the straps on his shoulders and the heavy breast plate fell into her open hands. Hades relieved her of the heavy burden by taking it in his hands. It and the sword vanished before her eyes; Persephone was never sure where it went, but all of it always returned to him when their love making was done. She focused on the remainder of her task, removing his gauntlets, the armor covering his shoulders and shins. Hades merely watched her with fierce blue eyes and ran his long pale fingers through her auburn hair.

Underneath all his heavy armor, Hades wore a black silk tunic and black leather covered the rest of him. Persephone easily lifted the tunic off of him and helped him with his heavy boots. She barely paused as she had so many times before when she pushed down his last article of clothing. Hades continued to breathe slowly and softly, his eyes never leaving her face.

When her task was done, Persephone stopped to gaze upon her husband. He was paler that she was; his skin was as white as snow. He had the body which the gods were known for: tall, broad, and muscular. Although his skin was cold, Persephone knew his heart beat true beneath his chest and it beat for her. She left the shimmering black crown upon his head of white hair and though his hair was white, he showed no trace of old age. He was an immortal god with a handsome face, but not near as handsome as his two brothers. Persephone was always glad that he looked nothing like his brothers. Hades was a god of his own form and will.

Persephone pressed her warm hands against his icy skin. Hades placed his strong arms around her delicate frame as she placed hot kisses over his neck and broad shoulders. She lowered her right hand between their bodies to touch him intimately. Hades finally made a sound and it was a low rumble deep within his throat. Persephone pressed her lips firmly against his neck and felt the vibration there as he responded to her touch.

Hades reached for the silk belt that held her white robes around her body. His strong pale hands untied it. The white robes slid off her shoulders and down her body like a waterfall. Her clothes disappeared like his had and would appear again when they were needed. She was exposed to his arctic blue eyes and the darkness of the Underworld, but Persephone felt no chill. She lay back on the bed, never breaking eye contact with her husband. He followed her until he was hovering over her like clouds in winter. He placed his cold fingers over her lips, almost caressing them as he murmured, "Persephone."

Persephone pressed her hands into his back as Hades lowered himself to kiss her deeply. He then began kissing other parts of her as well, his lips like snowflakes against her skin. Persephone moaned softly when he came to the most intimate part of her and he opened her legs with his hands. Hades used his hands and mouth to pleasure her until she found sweet release.

"My love," Persephone whispered.

Hades kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh when he was finished. He then sat up and positioned himself between her legs. Persephone pressed one hand against his powerful abdomen as they locked eyes. Hades gripped her hips in his large hands and eased himself into her. Persephone's back arched in response and she moaned. Hades was gentle with her at first, slowly moving against her in a steady rhythm. However, he gradually began to thrust into her and she cried out in pleasure, begging him not to stop. She came again with a scream and she trembled against him. Hades buried himself deep within her one last time and he groaned heavily when he found his release.

When it was done, Hades pulled her close and he lay back on the bed with Persephone on top of him. He cradled her in his arms, his blue eyes staring up into the never ending darkness above them. Persephone drifted off to sleep with his name on her lips, "Hades…"

A/N: Be sure to check out The Goddess Who Lived, another Hades/Persephone one-shot. Thanks for reading and please review! -TheUnfoldingWarmth